Travis Tritt pretty much gets it right when he sings convincingly: "Here's a quarter, call someone who cares..."
I've been thinking a lot about the expression "who cares?" in recent days. Why do I write some of things that appear on this blog and elsewhere? Why do I assume so much? Who cares?
Why do I get so exercised at times -- angry, discouraged, inspired, excited, intense, emotional, sympathetic, nostalgic? Why do I expose myself and my vulnerabilities, often as a means to an end? Why do I search for rationale and reasoning?
I mean, really...Who cares? Why bother? After all, who am I?
I came across a poem this morning written by a 12-year-old boy by the name of Rae. My first impulse was to say, this kid was me 60 years ago, in fact he is pretty much me as I am today. Then I got to his last two lines and I realized that he had snuck one in on me. To be sure, a lesson that I was not expecting. See what you think.
YOU JUST DON'T KNOW...
Get up, get dressed
Wash your face
Think you're a disgrace
Go to school, bite your lip
Say to yourself, "I'm OK",
But you know you feel the same
Low down. Hurt. Confused.
Waiting for answers, day after day,
Not knowing what I'll say.
Am I going home or am I staying?
What are they saying?
Time's ticking, you just don't know.
Months pass, things are said
Tears are shed
But you don't give up
There still might be luck.
-- Rae, 12
Out of the mouth of a babe! "You don't give up." You keep coming back because of a natural, in-bred trust in hope. There is always the possibility of good fortune, or a blessing of some sort, just around the next corner.
Tomorrow there just might be someone who cares. Someone who can relate. And you know what? More often than not, someone does. That's why I do what I do!
Thanks for reminding me of that, Rae.